Mystral Murder (Julie O'Hara Mystery Series) (5 page)

“They haven’t found her yet?”

“No, not yet.
They’re searching every nook and cranny on this ship.”

“Couldn’t she have gone ashore?”

“No, of course not, they’d know that. Remember that first day when we stopped at that beach on Parrot Cay? They didn’t just swipe the identification card. We had to look into the scanner so they could compare the picture and make sure it was us.”

“Do you know the woman?”

“I don’t
know
her, but I know who she is. She has that big travel agency; you’ve seen her ads in Boston, I’m sure. Paradis Travel?”

Adrienne
Paradis? Julie thought.

“I don’t think I know it.”

“Well, I saw them putting up her picture on the Purser’s desk, asking if anyone has seen her and to call if they have. They must think she jumped.”

Jumped? Adrienne?

* * * * *

 

 

CHAPTER 12

B
y eleven-twenty that morning, most of the Mystral’s passengers had gone ashore to tour the island of St. Thomas, so the unusual number of plain-clothes security officers visibly patrolling corridors and knocking on cabin doors was as obvious as a hundred referees in an empty stadium. But the last thing Julie expected was two of them sitting in her stateroom. They both stood up when she looked in the open door.

“Good morning, Ms. O’Hara. Please come in. Sorry to intrude like this.”

The speaker was a trim black man of average height with salt and pepper gray hair. He flipped open an identification wallet.  “My name is Clyde Williams and this is Wesley Hall,” he said, pointing to a younger man, an obvious muscular back-up. “We are ship’s security officers.  An American citizen, a woman, has been reported missing. We believe you and your travelling companion, Mr. Joseph Garrett, may have knowledge of this woman since you spent some time with her last night.”

“Do you mean Adrienne
Paradis? I’ve been hearing the pages.”

“Yes. Could you tell me where Mr. Garrett is?”

“Well…yes.  He’s at an AA meeting.”

Williams looked at his watch. “That should be over by now. Was he coming back here?”

“Yes. I think he’ll be here soon.”

“Perhaps we could ask you a couple of questions while we wait for Mr. Garrett?”

“Of course, but I don’t really know Adrienne Paradis well. I just met her last night at the Captain’s Table.”

“Yes, we’re aware of that,” he said, looking at a small notebook.  “Mrs. Catherine Byrne mentioned that. We are more interested in your whereabouts last night after you left the Top Hat Nightclub.”

“My ‘whereabouts’?”

“Yes. If I may ask, where did you sleep?”

“Oh,” Julie said, realizing there were probably closed-circuit cameras all over the ship. “You have me on video, don’t you?” She didn’t need an answer. “I slept in front of the Solaria Spa on a lounge. My companion and I had a spat.”

“And what was the ‘spat’ about?”

“It wasn’t about Adrienne Paradis, if that’s what you’re thinking. I was upset that Joe had fallen off the wagon. He’s an alcoholic, but he’s been sober for twenty years.”

“And I’m starting on the next twenty years, one day at a time,” Joe said as he walked in and put his arm around Julie.  “What’s going on?”

“These men are security officers, Joe.  Adrienne Paradis is missing.”

“The travel agent?”

“Yes, Mr. Garrett,” he said, flashing his identification, “I’m Officer Williams and this is Officer Hall.”

Julie immediately saw that they thought Joe had something to do with Adrienne’s disappearance. They had accentuated their authority by not giving Joe their first names. Clyde Williams displayed a subtle change in posture. He moved his body ever so slightly so that, instead of facing Joe, he was talking to him in silhouette. Unaware, he was telegraphing his distrust by giving Joe the clichéd “cold shoulder”.  Wesley Hall’s suspicion was obvious; the muscleman crossed his bulky arms and frowned the minute Joe walked in the room.

The contrast in their body language clarified something else:  Julie was not a suspect. 
But why are they focusing on Joe? He hardly knew Adrienne.

“If you don’t mind Mr. Garrett, we’d like to ask you a few questions about last night. Ms. O’Hara has already caught us up on some of her movements after dinner. Can you tell us where you went after the Captain’s Table?”

“Sure. I went with everybody else to the Top Hat.”

“And what time did you leave?”

“I don’t know what time it was,” Joe said, looking at the floor.

“Do you remember who you left with?”

“No, damn it, I don’t. You know where I just came from. I don’t remember anything after going to the Top Hat.”

“Where did you sleep last night, Mr. Garrett?”

Julie interrupted; she didn’t like the way this interview was going.

“He slept here, Officer Williams. I can testify to that.”

“I’m afraid you can only place him here at five this morning, Ms. O’Hara. That’s when Miguel, your cabin steward, says you came back.”

Joe turned to her, puzzled. “You weren’t here?”

“I was angry,” said Julie. “I slept on a chaise by the spa. It doesn’t matter now.”

“I’m afraid it does matter, Ms. O’Hara,” Clyde Williams said, looking at Julie with sympathy. “We have a three-hundred-sixty degree camera in the Top Hat.  Mr. Garrett and Adrienne
Paradis were the last guests to leave the club shortly after two o’clock and, as far as we know, that was the last time she was seen on this ship.

“So my question, Mr. Garrett, is: What happened between two and five?”

* * * * *

 

 

CHAPTER 13

A
longer question and answer period with Clyde Williams, sans the muscle, followed in the Mystral’s security office. The parrying back and forth produced no results, and finally Williams got down to his real concern.

“Mr. Garrett. We do not suspect you of foul play. We are aware that you, like Ms. O’Hara, only met Adrienne
Paradis last night. We think that possibly there was an accident.  If such is the case, it is unwise to attempt to cover it up. We know from the Top Hat video that both of you were feeling the physical effects of alcohol. The waiter said your conversation just before you left was disjointed and nonsensical.

“We also feel that Ms.
Paradis must have fallen overboard from the top deck, Deck 12, the same deck as the Top Hat club. Had the fall occurred on a lower deck, there is a much greater chance that it would have been caught on camera.

“It’s not at all uncommon for passengers to stand at the ship’s railing and look at the moonlight after a night of drinking and dancing, Mr. Garrett. Is that what happened?”

“Look, Officer Williams, I admit I was blotto last night. If anyone was in danger of accidentally falling overboard, it was me. But I honestly don’t recall being anywhere out on deck, with or without Adrienne Paradis. I might remember more in a day or two; I’ll certainly try. That poor woman; what are the chances of finding her?”

The former military man sighed, releasing his previous idea of Joe’s involvement.

“Call me Clyde. The odds aren’t good, Joe.”

“You mentioned cameras, Clyde. How is it the ship has a three-hundred-sixty-degree camera in the Top Hat and none on the railings?”

“We’ve got those in the public areas and on the lower decks.  On top, we have panning cameras hanging from each bridge wing to survey our flanks, port and starboard. Her fall isn’t on the video from the wing-mounted cameras; they could have just missed her. It was also quite cloudy and dark.”

Julie was pensive, looking at Clyde. Joe knew that look.

“What? What are you thinking?”

“A couple of things don’t add up. I got the impression that Adrienne was very familiar with this ship; that she’d been on this cruise before. Is that right?”

“Yes, she sailed with us a number of times,” Williams said. “She certainly knew her way around the ship…but when one is drunk…”

“That’s just it,” Julie said, “I’m trying to figure out how Adrienne got drunk. When the waiter at dinner attempted to refill her wineglass – it was the Cabernet, I believe – she put her hand over the top of her glass and shook her head. I’m not sure that she even finished that first glass. She acted like she didn’t like it.

“When we got to the Top Hat everybody ordered a drink, but Adrienne was more interested in dancing. She did end up with one cocktail while I was there. But then she left.


I was surprised to hear that she came back. Did she drink more then?”

“No, we don’t think so. She only charged one drink, a Margarita.  But keep in mind, Adrienne
Paradis was a small woman.”

“There
is
another possibility,” Joe said.

“A
rufie,” Julie said.

“What?” Williams asked.

“Rohypnol,” Julie said. “The date rape drug. Or scopolamine; it could easily be scopolamine, since it’s prescribed in small doses for seasickness. They must stock it in the Medical Center. Did you say the bartender in the Top Hat overheard ‘disjointed’ conversation between Joe and Adrienne?”

Clyde Williams was leaning forward now, looking at Julie and Joe with new regard.

“Yes. Gabe Rossi. He said they were talking ‘ragtime’.  I asked him what he meant by that, and he said they were drunk and they weren’t making sense. I see what you mean. While Joe could have gotten to that state on a whole day’s worth of drinking, you don’t think Adrienne Paradis could have gotten there on two drinks or less.”

“It’s hard to imagine, but you made a valid point. She
was
a small person.’

“Listen,” Joe said thoughtfully.  “I’m a private investigator and Julie is a body language expert. Why not let us help with the investigation, at least for the next few days?”

Julie nodded. “That’s a good idea, Clyde.  Joe and I barely knew Adrienne. We had nothing to do with her disappearance, and we have a social connection with all the people surrounding her last night who might actually have had a motive to see her gone.”

“I sure wouldn’t mind narrowing the field,” Williams said.

* * * * *

 

 

CHAPTER 14

T
he full-length mirror on the bathroom door was too fogged with steam to see and needed to be wiped with a towel. It seemed like someone else standing there, looking back…

 

I wasn’t going to kill her, you know, but a person can only take so much.

It was her fault. She brought it on herself. Some people think they can do whatever they want to other people, but she went too far.

I’m not worried about Julie O’Hara. She couldn’t have seen me; it was pitch black out there and I stayed in the shadows. I think I handled the Security officers well, too.  When they came asking questions, I shook my head and looked sad.

I’m glad she’s gone;
she was a bitch.

Careful, don’t think like that; it will show! You can get through this if you pretend it never happened. Pretend that someone else did it.  Say it!

 

“It was someone else… someone else…”

* * * * *

 

 

CHAPTER 15

T
he Mystral departed beautiful Port Charlotte Amalie in St. Thomas promptly at seven that evening. At eight, there was a public statement on the ship’s intercom:

 

“ATTENTION. This is your Captain, Andrew Collier, speaking. I have an important announcement: This morning a thirty-eight year old American citizen, Adrienne Paradis-Simpson, was reported missing by her husband. When this passenger failed to meet her scheduled St. Thomas tour group, our crew and our security staff proceeded to conduct a thorough search of the ship. I’m sorry to report that we have been unable to locate this guest.

“Adrienne
Paradis-Simpson was last seen in the early hours of this morning, did not return to her cabin and is officially declared to be missing. In the case of a probable MOB, or man-overboard, there are established procedures. First, marine regulations and protocol require that the United States Coast Guard and law enforcement authorities be contacted. That has been done. Second, the Mystral is cooperating in a full-scale search and rescue effort by modifying our itinerary and retracing our route.

“We apologize for having to cancel our scheduled port of Philipsburg, St. Maarten, but time is of the essence and the extra day at sea will allow us to search the transit area through the night and tomorrow. There will be extra lights during the night and we will be deploying our search and rescue craft.

“Please be assured that the crew is at your service and all on-board activities will still be available for your enjoyment.  We will arrive, as scheduled, in Port Canaveral, Florida, at six o’clock Saturday morning.  Thank you and good evening.”

Other books

Fragile Truths by D. H. Sidebottom, R. M. James
The well of lost plots by Jasper Fforde
The Body in the Birches by Katherine Hall Page
Dinamita by Liza Marklund
Keeper of the Stone by Lynn Wood
Men of Men by Wilbur Smith
Journeys with My Mother by Halina Rubin